


Born From Death

by Arcane_Sire



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-02-17 10:10:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13074666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcane_Sire/pseuds/Arcane_Sire
Summary: Short stories going over the chronological life of the very first death scythe(OC) and their transition into a world not yet made, but needed.





	1. Chapter 1

It seemed easy as a scythe. I cut the freshest grass in one well controlled swing. The morning dew a sweet wine gliding against my cool blade. Warm strong hands grasp my pole and heat me to the core.  My wielders power is my power and without them I am nothing. In the barn I sit waiting every week to be unstrung from the wooden walls. I get pulled away from the calls of various animals that are mobile even on their own. It is funny that we tools stay in one place. Some of us die, others outlive their use. Some of us that cannot move at all are used to stop those that can. And then they too can no longer move on their own. Still it was seemingly perfect. I could feel everything they could: tiredness, their hunger, the joy, pain, frustration. I took part in all sides of their emotions and in returned offered a clean cut. But lately something has changed.

 I don't taste as much dew as I used to. I feel the air vibrate around me more violently. I've gone longer strung up in my usefulness; unused. I've waited so long to feel the pleasantries of strong hands. They now are wispy and weak and they carry a perpetuating cold. The noisiness of animals, my fellow tools as quieted. I can feel the grasses and plants I once cut down twist and twine around me. It seemed to reach around my neck as a chokehold. Until one cool February evening those child bones once again clutched around my body and yanked me away. My very soul trembled as we waned away from the cool of the outdoors into the other structure- the home.

 It was dark, but freshly warm from fires that no longer burn in the fireplace. I feel my weight lifted in an odd fashion. Instead of the grace full lull to the side I could feel my head rise above my masters. And then pierce through many layers. The textures were unique. After the first shock of cracking past something hard and resistance the cozy insides coated me in their juices. I almost felt what I did when I was new to the world and at work, but was quickly pulled away from those delusions. As soon as a rested in the hands of the depraved I quiver and shake as various shocks and convulsions disturb my soul. It was then that I laughed. It was then when I cried. And it was then that I realized I too.....

 Could now move on my own.


	2. Chapter 2

It hurts. Everything in this world has hurt me ever since I've begun to freely walk this plain. These... Feet that I walk on are constantly pricked by the earth's floor. The air causes many forms of my suffering in one day. Going from cool shivering morning to the scorching mid day sun that burns through my skin. I feel as though I am cooking inside myself. I feel these things and yet my body? Yes. I have a body now. It is warm all the time to my touch, but I don't feel warm at all inside. The grass has a new feeling too it. It is soft and easily folds under my weight. The branches and twigs I used to rest upon whip my skin. It's not as hard as his and so red whelps and streaks have become a permanent decoration on my exterior.

It didn't start out that way. I stayed where my master had left me for so long. As long as I could, but the smell was biting and so were the bugs and animals that came in from the forest beyond the lands. I had left. I moved and didn't stop moving. Boxes with horses pulled other beings like master around. I hid in the bush whenever I heard one come near.  I pushed myself farther and followed the path they took from the direction they came. It must be where master has left. The forest thinned and the path broadened. More homes like my own littered the sides as I continued. The people carrying tools that were once like me stopped and starred. Their eyes followed me. Bore through me and burned me. I could feel it. Hotter than the warmth of the sun was their gaze on my back. No. Through my soul. It made me shudder and the last thing I saw before the darkness enveloped my mind was the sharp gleam of another scythe as it was raised in the air.

In this velvety black I could see something glowing. It was faint. It emanated sadness and melancholy. This round ball of dull red. The same color as the wood of my barn as nature and the weather took over. It was simple but there was a face. A taught line for a mouth and slanted white eyes. Dangling from it lay halo of white but only by a thread. Other balls of light came into view as well. All blue. All beautiful like the sky. This lonely dull red in its lonesome. It only made this feeling inside me feel heavier. That is until from the peripheral of my vision I watched as a light suddenly snuffed out. And another. They were over taken by a bright red light. It was no different in size, but the glow it sent off was malicious. It wavered for only a moment and then it-


	3. Chapter 3

This numb feeling spreads from my chest outward as I begin to visualize the world around me. I must have stopped breathing again. This happens every night now. I fall asleep without reason  until the same blobs fill my view. Then I wake up. Sometimes there is blood. Other times there are people crying nearby in the destruction. Not quite sure as to why I just keep moving. It’s gone on for so long people throw food at me when I pass through small villages. I think they might be praising me, but for what; I do not know. Nor do I care if it keeps my middle from hurting.

 Pushing off of the smoldering ground it was another silent wake up call. There was nobody and no live bodies in sight. I could smell burning flesh but the stink is the same I’ve woke up too every morning since that time. The grime piles up like the piles of people and burning houses. There was one body I came across that was left mostly unscathed. Black spots upon their neck and skin so grey that life couldn’t be gleaned from it. The eyes were open and puffy while starring t nothing in pain. So sad. 

I’ve found a way to go back to the calmness of my more useful form as a scythe. Never too long after a farm hand or someone finds me so does their end.  And so I keep moving. The blue blobs that dotted the blackness like the sky are comparable to a cloudy night now. The red blobs have increased in number. Especially near those large stone villages. I stay asleep longer the closer I get to one so I avoid them if I can. I wonder if I should stop. Yet there is nothing to go back to so I move on through these lands. May Death treat you swiftly.


	4. Chapter 4

 I was good at what I did. Oh right, you don’t know what I do yet. As of the moment people seem to be in an uproar about ‘witches’. Nothing new there. Medicine witches have been around since before my creation and didn’t harm too many. No. These witches were special and a breed all their own. They are great deceivers. They can be anyone. Man, woman, young or old. Some have even become animals to hide from their wicked deeds. I can recall my first encounter. The first real witch to grace the earth.

 It was cloudy and bright at the same time. It made the sky seem blindingly white as I approached a new town. The air seemed heavy and the people looked exhausted. It was like death was toying with the residence. Enough trouble to make them suffer, but not enough to weigh down a human life. I ad walked farther down the roads and there sat an ordinary house. Thatched roof and crooked chimney. What made it stand out was the tree beside it. It was blacker than the fur of hell hounds. And yet white chips were made in various places of the trunk. None of the cuts were deeper than the outer bark.  The leaves and buds were black as well. And yet, glowing brighter in this monochrome town, were flowers that bloomed into a brilliant peach color. It was the color of fresh blood bleeding into a sunset- so painfully beautiful. No one went near it though. And after weeks of waiting I let curiosity get the best of me.

I ventured closer and reached out to pluck a flower. A voice breached my trance like determination. But it was too late as my fingers had already grazed the bloom. In its full force I began to choke. Any air I was taking in was suddenly cut off and my body felt too heavy to move. I was stuck reaching for what I assumed was going to be my doom when I felt a pair of hands jerk me away. Landing hard on the ground had knocked me back to my senses and I began to breathe again. Voices that sounded like they were coming from underwater came into focus along with a man and his child’s face.

“I see this is your first encounter with our witch.”


	5. Chapter 5

 My tunic lightly grazed the ground as I walked silently through the forest. I had my fabric tucked into the rope in a make shift basket. Within were ripe wild berries. Of course they weren’t for me. There was no reason to eat. Instead I had knelt down into the soft earth in front of a burrow that formed within a dead tree and emptied my tunic of the harvest. Soon after the almost dog like face of a stone marten had emerged. It paused before the bounty I offered and carefully drew it backwards into the shade of its home. There was no need to stay any longer. With that I had moved on to the real problem.

 Lately there has been a lot more activity at night from these humans. Torches and candles lit far past dusk and sometimes venturing into the first few leagues of the forest’s edge. They never traveled far enough into the trees to see me- as it should stay that way. They are on a witch hunt. I know who they are seeking, but they are no witch. When witches hide amongst the plain they always stand out in two ways: they are simply prettier than most, or plain and odd. The oddness stems from their over willingness to help. And in these times and it can come across as downright mad when they try to justify it.

 I would know. After a few encounters with them it became obvious how they differed. There is this draw towards them that you can’t quite control if you are human. Without knowing, you are around them more than you could imagine possible. In doing so are forced to talk and open up. They slide past the defenses of common sense and the inkling feelings of unease. Sadly the process can be long or short, but as it tears into the soul of the victim the damage is severe. With just a crack or a hole the red seeps around their soul until they become the monsters they once feared. The process doesn’t work so well on a being such as me though- as evidenced by the flowing tendrils of pink tinted skin covering my right shoulder. It’s unusual enough to have me questioned and so in the shadows of nature I stay. Life has become my shield and Death my witness.


	6. Chapter 6

I must admit sometimes I feel at fault for these happenings. Though humans have never perfectly got along, I may have let some go and now they are paying the price. Rather their lives are the coins while witches bet with their lives. Corruption has been spreading not just in their souls, but in their churches and governments. Heathen, faithless, heresy. Through silent glances and hushed whispers these words stoke the very fires of hell they wish to avoid. It’s funny really.  This comes and goes in cycles. It only has repeated in increasing frequency due to outside forces.

Though the leaders of the church are corrupt, I find the buildings quite welcoming. A sanctuary and a prison all in one. I’ve watched some true miracles of men. Souls heal here. Minds repent. Bodies can rest. It works intermittently if the person in question in faithful enough to whatever their belief is. Those who fail fall into self loathing walk this plain and the next with a vengeful emptiness. One I find in myself sometimes.

There was a brief moment where my own desolate sea of self did not feel quite as daunting to accept. A young girl only about 10 had seemed to befriend me without my notice. I did have knowledge of her following my form throughout the city. What I didn’t know was her perspective of this haggard beggar I portrayed. It was a fun game of cat and mouse for her. One I wish never started. Because soon after, her own innocence would come to an end.


End file.
